He Pulled The Trigger: Blackhawk Down
by Inari Kasugawa
Summary: Cold war. Pilot Alfred Jones is shot down on a recon mission over Russia and is captured. An old friend is there waiting. More of a colaboration, as it has been edited for cohesion. We weren't verry nice... more Hurt than comfort. Warning for violence.


BLACKHAWK DOWN

"Shit!" the pilot cursed, jerking his plane back and forth in an attempt to escape the bullets and anti-aircraft shells coming dangerously close to hitting him. There must've been a leak. There was no other way they could have known he would be fl- There was a sickening crunch and suddenly _Lady L. _was falling, unresponsive to his frantic tugging and pleading. He was forced to eject or die, the parachute deploying and saving him from certain death. Though, as he landed and struggled out of the restraints holding him in, maybe death would have been a better option. He got loose and managed to get a few steps away, enough to build some momentum, when suddenly there was a blinding pain in the back of his head and darkness greeted him.

oO0Oo

He woke slowly, groaning as a headache ground a staccato beat on his brain... oh wait... no... it was something else. He lifted his chin off of his chest and looked around, peering though hazy vision- someone must've taken his glasses from him- and trying to find his captor. His hands felt numb.

"I musta been out for a while..." he rasped finally to himself, wincing at how harsh his voice sounded. He must have been deep asleep, dehydrated or both to sound like that. But He didn't think his 'host' was around, so he began examining himself to see if there was a way to escape....

"Now now, friend, the guest is to make himself comfortable, dah?" A man entered the room with surprising stealth for a man of his size.

"I would not be moving as much were I you." He twirled a pair of glasses in his hand, his other locking the door with a key from a large ring of many.

"Oh, do take a _seat_; it will make my job much easier, right, _Mr. Jones_?"

He jumped, stifling a curse as the other entered the room. His eyes darted wildly, unable to focus on anything without his corrective lenses, before settling on a large pale blob. He licked his slightly chapped lips before speaking.

"I'd be a lot more comfortable if I wasn't tied to a chair... _Ivan_." He purposefully mispronounced the others name, saying it mockingly. He continued to squirm, hoping to work a hand loose or something. He was trapped, but the Hero never backs down. Even when he is probably in the capital city of his most hated enemy. He smirked, and tossed his head to flash an arrogant and cocky grin in the others direction.

"But hey. I wouldn't expect much from a Communist huh?"

Ivan made a rather disappointed clucking sound before coming to stand behind Alfred. "Have you heard of the Boogeyman, friend Jones? And such name calling, a shame, dah? But not a thing to worry," He bent himself down to brush his mouth over his captive's ear, "you will be intimately aware of how to say my name if you ever hope to leave this place with your heart still beating in your chest." He placed Alfred's gasses back on the man's face as he came around to face him. Ivan grabbed his face with two large hands, cold to the touch, and forced Alfred to look at him. "Remember this face, friend; the face of the _communist_ that holds your life in his hands; much as I hold your face now." And it must have been one of the funniest things he had ever heard, because Ivan promptly broke into a loud, terrifying cackle at this.

"Boogeyman?" he repeated, shivering minutely at the others closeness. He hated that about Europeans. They always had to stand too close to simply _be_ too close. It was too intimate. He was glad to have his glasses back though; to be able to see. He shook his head, setting the glasses and attempting to free his face from that Communists' touch. He wondered vaguely what Ivan meant by what he had said, but shrugged. It wasn't like anything but the general torture would occur right? He looked at Ivan, glaring with all the anger he could.

"As much as I hate to admit it, I remember your face." he sneered, "I was your friend once. But you didn't want me. I was a _Capitalist Pig_ after all." He snorted and turned his head away, scowling.

"Ah! That is very good of you Mr. Jones! Then this will be even better!" He had a twisted look of childish glee on his face. He took the glasses back from Alfred. "NO!" Alfred jerked violently at his bindings when his glasses were removed. He didn't stop until he heard the crunch of their destruction, his blue eyes wide with shock. "You won't be needing these. You see, when you're in a nightmare," There was the twang of a knife being unsheathed, "it doesn't matter what you can't see, only if you can run from it. And, _friend_ there is nowhere for you to run." He was about to renew his frantic struggling when he saw something shine and felt icy metal along his neck. He tried to lean back, away from the blade, and bared his teeth in anger. Ivan pressed the broad side of the blade to Alfred's throat. "I hate losing friends, perhaps, after this, you will wish to stay with me?"

He leaned in closely to Alfred's ear. "And whether you want me or not, I will have you. You will never forget me, even if I must be your darkest memory."

"I ain't yer friend Communist." he growled, "I ain't been yer friend since _you_ left _me_. I don't need friends anyway. I am a hero. I am going to keep everyone safe from people like you and your bastard leaders. And you'd have to do some serious fucking brainwashing to get me to stay in this hellhole of a place.

Ivan laughed a cold, deep, dark laugh. Holding the dagger straight so that it pointed directly at Alfred's Adam's apple, he slowly brought it down, lightly trailing his skin, careful not to make him bleed.

"That look is wonderful on you, _Mr. Hero,_ but, sadly, I'm afraid that you are just one man, and a small one at that. At least compared to me. Not to mention," He spoke in a condescending singsong voice, "you happen to be at little _tied up_ at the moment, dah?"

With the knife, he tore down the front of the brown bomber jacket, completely ignoring the zipper. Alfred felt a slight pressure on his shoulders, like someone was pulling on his jacket, and heard the sound of fabric ripping. _He __**didn't**_... he thought with a stunned expression on his face.

"I know 10,000 ways to break a man, my friend." He said quite seriously. "Would you like to see?" His smile was poison.

Alfred bristled as Ivan pointed out the obvious. He was indeed much shorter than the other, and he was currently bound hand and foot to a chair with rope. What was this... the eighteen hundreds?

'_You ever heard of handcuffs Commie?'_ he thought, finally managing to loosen one of the ropes as the blade traveled lower.

Ivan brought his face dangerously close to Alfred's. He bent forward a little more, a hand on his captive's shoulder to balance himself, the knife trained just between his ribcage, and into his ear whispered:

"Friend Jones, you will make this far too fun, I fear."

He rested his head lazily on Alfred's shoulder, his lips grazing over soft skin _just so_…

"Make what fun y-" He tensed up, eyes wide in shock as Ivan brushed against a bundle of sensitive nerves he had kept hidden, even from Arthur. He twitched bodily and gasped, pulling away as well as he could. He freed his hand and struck out, hoping to connect with that smug Commies' face.

And it did connect. Ivan didn't even stumble.

"That's one." He chuckled. He rubbed he face where the blow had landed.

"You have no momentum with _anything_ you try, do you Jones?"

There was a jingling sound as Ivan pulled something from his coat pocket.

"These are what you wanted? You could have told me sooner that you had such… _tastes_, friend."

Alfred growled, literally growled like dog at the jibe and attempted to escape being cuffed. He growled again when the free hand was caught and made helpless yet again, muttering angrily to himself as he glared towards Ivan. In a quick movement Ivan had cuffed Alfred's hands together behind his back. Through the chair he dug just the tip of the knife into Alfred's back, tearing another hole in the coat through the center of the zero on its back.

"See what you make me do, friend Jones? See how I've already had to hurt you?"

Alfred felt the other stab him and jumped, shouting in surprise.

"What the _FUCK_?!" he yelled disbelievingly. He struggled against the metal cuffs despite the chaffing that had already begun while he was tied with rope, "I made _you_ hurt me? I ain't done nothing but try to get away you, stupid Commie! You'd be doing the same thing! And what do you mean about tastes? I meant that most people handcuff prisoners you backwards Ruski! We don't tie them up like a hog!"

"That's two."

Ivan couldn't hold back another laugh.

"Hog tying a Capitalist seems about right!"

Ivan chuckles a bit more.

"Your country thinks it's on top of the world right now, doesn't it? Everyone there has so much that it seems like nothing to them. This torn jacket of yours, do you know how many women would fight to the death over it? Just to give it to their child?"

His voice got low and dangerous. Taking a fistful of the Americans hair, he pulled his head to the side and pressed the knife against his neck.

"Do you know how many people here hate you without knowing your name?"

"You think I don't know what it is to want something so bad it hurts?" he whispered, grunting as his hair was pulled roughly and the blade applied to his skin, "You know what they call people like me until we're adults? Wards of State. We ain't got anyone and no one cares." _'I hand-sewed the numbers on and I have carefully repaired every rip and tear on this thing for years.' _

It was a shallow cut, just enough to make the man bleed. When it had dribbled down nearly to his shoulder, Ivan pressed his tongue to Alfred's throat and licked up the red liquid.

"Even your blood cannot appreciate how lucky it is to course through your body. See how it runs, friend?"

Alfred glared.

He shivered as Ivan lapped the blood up, trying to move away despite the hand holding his head in place. He winced as he felt a couple of strands pull loose from their home in his head and finally stilled. "And I thought Arthur was weird." he muttered, involuntarily thinking about his old friend... one who hardly spoke to anymore. It was hard to be a spy, you become paranoid and start thinking everyone is a spy for the other side.  
And yet, here he was spilling his life story to one of those Reds. Even if Ivan had been… He should have his head checked once he got back...

"That's three…" His tone wasn't so cocky, but the viciousness didn't abate.

"You really are making this too easy, Jones."

'_As though we don't have orphans here…'_

He placed his lips over the wound, sucking lightly until the bleeding stopped.

Alfred twitched as Ivan sucked on his neck, most likely leaving a hickey. 'O_h joy_...' he thought darkly.

"You are really falling apart too quickly. What happened to your edge? Do they really make you all such bleeding hearts in America?"

Alfred clenched his jaw as Ivan tossed another jibe at him, a growl rumbling deep in his chest as he glared. He wasn't a bleeding heart. He was a hero; someone who stands for truth and justice and the good old American way. He would be someone the people might never know, but who they needed.

Ivan got up, unable to look back at the man.

"It's almost as if you wanted this, you have stopped struggling. The fight in you was dead before you got here." He spat, feeling his prize, the breaking of this man before him, being slowly pulled away.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, jerking against the cuffs in an attempt to make a hand gesture, "No one wants to be tortured. It's sick and wrong to like that kind of stuff."  
_Not that it stopped you from liking it when th-_ he shook his head wildly to get rid of the voice reminding him of that time... It was not the time to be thinking of past encounters when there was a perfectly dangerous situation going on now... He attempted to catch Ivan's' eye and sneered "'Sides. I ain't gonna be answering any of our questions so you can just get on with It."

"And what's with the counting?" he asked, wondering what the last number would mean. He was getting curious.

Standing behind Alfred, Ivan's face had a sad look to it.

"Please don't make me continue. Just tell me your mission, then I don't have to hurt you anymore."

There was no pain in his voice, there hadn't been since he was taken from his sisters, since he was made into this monster in order to keep them alive. He took comfort in knowing that they were safe in a rich house with jobs, all he had to do was kill his own heart, do what his government wanted and they would stay that way. When you had something to lose, this government made sure you felt it acutely at all times. He trailed gloved fingers over Alfred's neck, down to his shoulders, under the fabric of his shirt.

"_Please don't make me continue_..." he mocked, imitating Ivan's tone. He winced at the pressure applied.

"Friend Jones, we both have too much to lose." His voice became steely and cold as with that last word he tightened his grip on Alfred's shoulder.

He felt a pain in his heart. Having had to see his country go through this turmoil, having to see his fellows be treated harshly or ignored, and worse, when they disappeared in the night. How else could he have felt but terrified when he realized what he had said to Alfred; when he realized that someone else was gone.

Too much to lose? No. Matthew had someone to love him and treat him the way he deserved to be treated. Alfred had only his superiors and co-workers. He hadn't seen or spoken to his brother since he had become a spy. He had sent a letter, telling him to have a good and long life and not to worry. After that he had changed his address and became a veritable hermit. He trusted no one. He had no friends, no lovers, no family. Only himself and his plane. And his plane was gone.

"Nothin' more dangerous than a man who's got nothing to lose but his life," he murmured, almost to himself, and smiled emptily, "I can take the pain..."

"That's four... you know... a former Japanese… _acquaintance_ of mine once told me that four was a very unlucky number, as, when it is pronounced a specific way, means death. How very unfortunate for you."

_Shi_." He rasped, remembering one of the few Japanese words his friend Kiku had taught him. He smirked, spitting at Ivan, "They also believe that death is better than surrender."  
Anything else he thought was driven away by the beating he received.

The beating that Ivan delivered unto the American was only skin deep, to weaken him, to bruise him, to scare him, not to kill him. He didn't want the man able to stand for what was going to come next. He was afraid.

"Accept me, as I am, a man with everything to lose, friend Jones, and perhaps you will survive this. Now," he said lifting the man's drooping head up by his hair, _"tell me your mission." _

"Come on Ruski. You can do better than that..."

Their faces were close, maybe too close, but proximity was no matter. Ivan was nearly desperate to make him talk, to save Alfred from the desperation he felt wrenching his gut.

Because this man wasn't another nameless, faceless enemy. It was _Alfred_. If he couldn't get information…

"I'm not a fragile Lithuanian. _Break my bones Braginski_." He snarled

His eyes narrowed at that last statement.

"If you wish to blame a brother who only does what he must for what's left of his family…" picking up a pipe that was lying on the floor, he brought it to smash against Alfred's ribs, _"You don't know why I've tried to be kind!" _Another crushing blow to Alfred's abdomen. "You don't know the fear! _Ward of the State_…" he spat. He dropped the pipe and wrapped his hand around Alfred's throat, squeezing tightly as he hissed he curses through clenched teeth. "Pray tell, I've always wondered, how does it feel to have a government that gives you a roof over your head and food to eat? A government that protects your siblings instead of holding them ransom?" He shook the man, wrapping another hand around his neck. _"HOW DOES IT FEEL?"_

He couldn't feel the tears running down his face, his eyes were trained on the blood dribbling past the man's lips; his mind was focusing on _not_ strangling this man to death.

Alfred's could feel his bones crack from the harsh treatment, and he gasped and choked in pain. He grinned a bloody, defiant grimace at Ivan, and spat.

"Poor little Ivan." he rasped and coughed, despite the black encroaching his vision, "Not having the glory of being bedded in army cots with as many as will fit into the room. Not working to make sure your siblings can have enough to stop the rumbling in their stomach and to have clothes that fit properly on their back." He hissed halfheartedly, and closed his eyes tiredly, letting the other force his head up.

"I don't care about them or _you_. I don't even care about my brother. I only care about my government." He was lying. He loved his brother and he loved his friends more than he would ever admit. And he never stopped loving them. He just pretended it was hate. It was easier than admitting he was heartbroken at yet another loss... He blinked dazedly at the feeling of moisture on his cheeks and looked up. Ivan was _crying_...?

Ivan's hands dropped from the man's throat. Cutting the ropes from around Alfred's legs he blankly carried himself behind the man, cutting the ropes on his arms, leaving the hand cuffs on as he yanked his arms over the back of the chair. He drew his knife again and pushed the man to his knees, Alfred's back still facing him.

"Friend…" his voice very nearly cracked as his breath caught in his throat, "so close, you are almost just like me! That makes me happy, even though I've had to do such things to you. So now," he kneeled behind Alfred and leaned over his body, pressing himself against his prisoner. Alfred didn't, couldn't, resist as he was picked up and forced to his knees. But he could speak... somewhat... And wanted to. "Let me make you just like me." His laugh at this sounded very much like a sob as he pressed his lips to the back of Alfred's neck.

The move had caused Alfred's fractured ribs to shift and he cried out softly at the pain. The final sentence Ivan spoke made the hair on the back of his neck rise. He shivered at the kiss, for it could be nothing else to the American, and whimpered.  
"Ivan..." he gasped fearfully, trying to hide it with nonchalance, "What... What are... You doing?"

Ivan brought his hands under Alfred's shirt; he felt so warm. He touched over his ribs, counted the ones he had broken, very lightly pressing over each as he counted.

"One, two, three, four… and that's five. Alfred…" The name came out as more of a groan as he pressed himself closer still.

Alfred hissed in as Ivan counted, the cool fingers felt good against the pain and heat of the skin resting over damaged bones.

One hand lightly ghosted down to the top of Alfred's pants, slipping under but over the boxers the man wore, his other hand trailing over the man's chest brushing over a nipple.

His eyes lowered at the sound of his name being groaned, but they shot up and widened in shock as the counting hand touched naturally sensitive skin and the forgotten other hand snaked into his pants. He tried to squirm away from the intrusive actions, panting slightly from pain and discomfort.  
"S-stop!" he managed to squawk, trembling from the variety of stimulation.

Ivan sank his teeth into Alfred's shoulder when he heard the dissension in his voice, almost hard enough to draw blood. He was past talking. He was going to take back what he had cast away so long ago, whether or not that was alright with the second party. His hand unbuttoned Alfred's pants before it went to his coat pocket and pulled out the key for the handcuffs, unlocking them and letting Alfred's arms go loose before he pushed him down further. The hand then snaked around to the back to pull them down and off his legs leaving him in his boxers. Grasping the man then by his shoulders he pulled him up so that he was just on his knees. Ivan was careful in how he removed the remaining tatters of the coat, nearly reverently, almost as though apologizing. When the coat was removed, he kissed Alfred's neck as he attempted to lift the shirt underneath over his head.

"You will not deny me now… Not now…"

"D-deny you what?" he gasped, trembling from the strain of trying to keep Ivan from his goal. He blinked at a sudden insight that struck like lightning from Gods' own hand " This isn't about the mission anymore is it..."

He struggled and thrashed, despite the pain from his injuries, trying vainly to keep Ivan from completing his task. At the loss of his pants, and his jacket a moment later, he tried to kick or punch the stronger and healthier male. Feeling the attempt to remove his shirt, he grabbed the others hands in as strong a grasp as he was capable of and attempted to pull them away.

He didn't like being looked at.

His bones were crooked from fights and he had scars and welts littering his body. The worst was from his younger twin brother. It was an ugly red thing, raised and jagged; it went along the waistband of his boxers, peeking out randomly. It began at one side of his spine and ended at the other. The doctors said it would have killed him. As it was, it hadn't healed properly.

"No... no it isn't. I will do as I want here, for once in my life, and then I will die. I will die hoping my sister's are spared for my selfishness..."

Ivan continued to kiss Alfred's shoulders gently, trying to coax him out of his shirt one arm at a time, patient as one would be with a child. Able finally to get one arm out of a sleeve, Ivan placed a kiss on his neck as he went to lift the shirt over Alfred's head.

He grunted as Ivan managed to somehow get an arm loose and began working at the other, still squirming and resisting as much as possible. He finally sighed and let the other do what he wanted. The pain of broken bones sapped his strength. He was too tired to fight anymore.

"Hnn..." He whined softly as Ivan spoke, "Ivan… _Vanya_... Please... Stop this..." _It isn't right_... "I don't-..." His mouth snapped shut, sealing the rest of his thoughts behind tight lips.

'_Vanya…'_ That pet name. Ivan had finished removing the shirt, and froze for a moment before moving in front of Alfred. He looked down on the man, at the damage he suffered. He placed a hand on the side of Alfred's face and tilted his head up.

"This could have just been about the mission, but you never changed, you were always stubborn, even when we had been friends still." Ivan's eyes scanned Alfred's face, not really knowing what it was he was looking for.

"You could have walked out of here." He chuckled sadly too himself."After what I have done, and only now am I truly afraid of hurting you. Why is that… I wonder…"

He placed his lips carefully on Alfred's, though insistent. He_ wanted _this, and he wanted Alfred to want it too, but he knew he was slipping dangerously.

Alfred didn't expect to be kissed, and even less to be kissed so gently. He recoiled instinctively, trying to escape, but there was nowhere to escape to. Tears collected at the corners of his eyes, but he didn't resist. He hated himself... and he hated Ivan, but nothing could change the simple fact... that he wanted nothing more than to continue.

He wouldn't tell Ivan that they both had failed their missions anyway. His mission was to take pictures of Russia. He failed, he would become a 'downed pilot'... Dead to the US government. His brother would get a letter telling him of his brother's sacrifice and a fat check that would keep him safe from poverty and in a nice home... at least for as long as he was careful with it. Alfred had had no need for his money and had only bought the necessities. All in all, Matthew would be receiving a sizable inheritance soon.

Feeling the body in his arms stop struggling, Ivan pulled away from the kiss and trailed down Alfred's neck, sucking lightly, putting just slight pressure with his teeth, not enough to be called biting. He tilted Alfred's head a little higher as he kissed his throat, down to his collar, his cold hands gently rubbing the abused man's sides. He brought his lips back to Alfred's, his tongue begging entrance. He held one hand on the American's hip, one hand tangled in his blond hair, pressing them closer.

Alfred tried to ignore the pain inflicted by even the lightest pressure on his ribs but that, coupled with the closer proximity of the Russian, caused him to gasp. His lips parted slightly as he panted for air. His teeth gleamed from the blood that still ran from his body and painted streaks on his face.

"Please..." he repeated, just before Ivan descended for another kiss. He hastily closed his mouth, refusing entrance. He didn't want to have it taken from him like this. Rutting like an animal- with an _enemy_ no less ---in an interrogation room. Even if that enemy was once his only friend. Even if once that enemy had had the promise of something more. Even if he still ... He shook his head, wincing as his broken ribs shifted and the ones that were cracked began to creak slightly.

(Stockholm syndrome and the stick and carrot method?)

Ivan was losing his already thinly stretched patience. He didn't want to hurt the man any further than he already had, but he was becoming frustrated as well.

"Why?! Why do you keep rejecting this? When so clearly you want it too? And don't you try and deny it," he placed his hand over Alfred's crotch, "when the evidence is clear to both of us. There is no one here but me and you. No one. What is there left to prove?"

The last comment was dripping with hurt and desperation; he kissed Alfred again being careful to avoid the ribs. His fingers ghosted lightly over the man's neck and shoulders, his other hand insistently palming Alfred's nether regions.

Alfred couldn't help it. He moaned and jerked, bucking against Ivan's hand as the Russian continued to touch him so intimately. He felt the tears escape and begin to flow down his face as he brought both hands to press Ivan's shoulders, trying to push him away. He shook his head helplessly and gestured at the room they were in. He didn't want this...

"N-not like th-this..." he whispered, trying to stop the insistent tears. He looked away, unable to resist the others skillful touch on his body, "Please... N-not l-like this Iv-van..."

He held Alfred close to him, his one hand slipping into his boxers and grabbing firm hold of his now throbbing member. He pumped up and down the shaft, gently petting Alfred's hair as he held the man nearer to him to support him better, ignoring his attempts to push him away.

"If not like this, how? If not here, when? Please be realistic."

It hurt him to be cold like that while handling the other man in such an intimate manner.

"Я люблю Вас. Действительно, я люблю Вас." He all but whispered this into Alfred's hair. The hand that had held the blonde man's hair danced lightly over his back. He felt the scars there but did not flinch; he had scars of his own. He tried get Alfred to respond, least he completely lose himself and do something he knew he would regret.

He shook his head again as Ivan held him close, still crying. He knew what Ivan said was the truth, and the prior actions of the Russians had him needing more. But he couldn't willingly give himself to anyone in a place like this. He would rather a jail cell than this.

"Not in here..." he begged tearfully, clinging to Ivan's jacket, "_Please _Ivan… no..."

He stopped this time, pulling away as though he had been burned by something. He looked at Alfred, his face held no emotion, no feeling…

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"

He could feel himself slipping, and he didn't know where too. His body was too numb for him to move.

Ivan chuckled sadly and shook his head.

Ivan whipped out a gun from inside his coat, aiming it at Alfred's head. His face was contorted in pain, anger, and sorrow, tears streaming from his unblinking eyes. But the most prominent change was the ear to ear smile that had _just _too many teeth showing.

"It would come to this."

His other hand crept back into his coat pocket, lightly touching the handcuffs.

"I vould love jou till my h'art burst," Ivan's accent started becoming thicker as his control became weaker, "… But perhaps… perhaps it is too late for my h'art."

He fired the gun just past Alfred's head before bringing it back to aim at his own. His hand griped the contents of his coat pocket tighter.

"Vat vould jou chose? I cannot kill jou, only jou…"

Alfred stared at the gun quietly for a moment... Then burst into hysterical laughing when it went off, not even noticing the pain of his broken ribs. He didn't want to die, but he didn't care if he lived. Ivan though... What was he saying? His heart?

"Monsters can't love." He whispered quietly.

Alfred began to shake, slowly at first, and closed his eyes. His face twisted in concentration, muscles twitching slightly until he opened them again and exhaled slowly. He looked at Ivan with a somber expression.

Alfred's sudden burst of bravery was for nothing though. Ivan's voices were in control. Breaking out the handcuffs again, Ivan latched Alfred's hands together in front. Turning Alfred so that his back was towards him. He roughly shoved the man to his knees.

"I-I cannot take more 'shances with you. Have I lost you truly, friend?"  
His questions didn't slow down his movements. He was lost to the beast inside him. All the fear he felt, all the anger that simmered deep in his soul. All of the doubt that rotted his heart away… Using his own body weight, he forced Alfred to bend forward even more.

Alfred struggled frantically as his hands were captured, wincing as the cuffs closed too roughly. The struggling stopped as Ivan pushed against him from behind, making him yelp in pain.

"I-Ivan!" He gasped desperately, "S-sto-Guh!" He choked, coughing up blood. He couldn't speak, couldn't cry out, couldn't try to bring Ivan back...

Ivan drew the knife back from his coat.

"Don't cry Любимая…"

One hand rubbed Alfred's back in a mock-tender gesture, while the other very carefully, so as not to accidentally cut the man sliced away his last piece of clothing. That done, he cast away the knife, his now empty hand grasped Alfred's arousal and squeezed slightly, pumping his member slightly roughly, his own breath hot at Alfred's ear.

"Я люблю Вас."

Alfred shook his head, still trying to escape. He gasped at the touch and squirmed in surprised pleasure, moaning lightly. He had never been very good with language so he had no idea what Ivan said. All he knew was that whatever Ivan had said had sounded wonderful in a far too chilling way. But he was all too aware of the fact that this was not his Ivan. This Ivan was not his Vanya.

Tears broke through Ivan's twisted smile as he kissed the man beneath him, pressing shamelessly against his now bear captive. Oh how he loved him, how he wanted to make him his finally.

He began unbuttoning his coat, and once he casted it off, laid himself lightly against Alfred's back, relishing in the warmth the man gave off.

"Oh Alfred… my friend, my love…!"

His hand returned to its work at Alfred's throbbing sex while the other went to unbutton his pants.

Alfred shivered as Ivan pressed against him, the strange coolness soothing against his heated skin. He couldn't see what Ivan was doing behind him, but he had a feeling he knew what was to come. He felt tears of helplessness gather and he opened his mouth. He coughed weakly. There was enough air to speak... But not enough to say what was needed

"Please... Ivan _please_..."_Stop... This isn't right... This isn't __**you**__..._

"I have missed hearing your voice so much Любимая. It is so nice to hear you again! And what a wonderful treat to finally feel you…"

A low groan fell from his lips as he pressed his freed erection against Alfred, positioning himself against his entrance.

"I can't wait to hear more, friend."

He pressed himself in fully before he paused, taking in a deep breath as the heat enveloped him.

Alfred couldn't hold back the anguished wail as Ivan entered him roughly. His voice echoed loudly in the small room as he sobbed and thrashed weakly, trying to escape the pain. He felt like he was being torn in two. Ivan was huge and it took more than just a little getting used to.

"Alfred…" he murmured over and over into Alfred's neck as he thrust in and out as deeply as he could manage.

"I've got you, don't you see? Don't you see how I love you?"

He repeated it like a mantra as he attended Alfred's weeping cock; his apology and his love, first in English, but as his pace quickened, his voice bled back into Russian.

Alfred shuddered at Ivan's words, and weeping in pain as he was thrust into. He felt something tearing deep inside of him and a liquid began flowing, lubricating the invasive erection thrusting into him. He knew he shouldn't feel betrayed by this. Ivan had broken off their friendship years ago... As much as Ivan's apparent 'Love' hurt him, he didn't speak, simply crying and shaking his head. He didn't want this even if his body enjoyed it. Suddenly he convulsed and cried out in pained pleasure, tightening around Ivan as his prostate was suddenly struck.

"Ah! See my love? Can't you feel it?"

After having found that spot in Alfred he determined to hit it as much as possible.

"See…? We are… we are one again." He moaned when he felt Alfred tighten around him.

"All that I have…"

Alfred groaned and panted, squirming and shuddering as Ivan continued to hit that one place that sent pleasure coursing through him. His fingers twitched spasmodically and his eyes rolled as his body was abused so... _wonderfully_. It was so painful and wrong and... he needed _more_.

Ivan kissed up Alfred's back gently kissing the curve where the man's neck came to his shoulders, suckling loving at the pulse point.

"So beautiful…"

"V-Vanya!" he breathed, arching at the contact on his back. He could feel himself coming closer to the edge; his breathing became erratic and he began to rock in time with Ivan's' pace, pushing back when Ivan thrust forward...

Ivan reached a hand up to brush over Alfred's nipples, trying to push the man over the edge.

His breath became more erratic as he felt the man beneath him thrust up to meet him; he sped up his pace, unable to keep himself in any kind of rhythm anymore.

With a lowing keen, Alfred released his seed into the other's hand, panting and gasping as Ivan continued to thrust. He was close, so close.

Feeling Ivan release inside of him stung. Alfred was satisfied, but it was hollow, sullied. The weight of the man above him was beginning to grow unbearable when Ivan lifted himself away from Alfred. Ivan straightened himself out. Composed himself, and picked up his revolver.

"I think, Alfred, that maybe one bullet remains." He gave the barrel a spin and aimed it at Alfred's head.

"Russian roulette."

He pulled the trigger.

*****

**Just remember to hate me forever for just ending it there. OMFG I LOST THE REST OF IT! Akugirl, this is my fault. Ah… I hoped this ended… well enough… oh who the fuck am I kidding?!?! *despair*Either way, I've had this too long, I have several others, and can only throw this one out into the world and hope fervently that the world doesn't kill it. I love you little baby. Damn I need to sleep. **


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